The upside of being a geek

My son, my oldest child, will graduate from our parish school in a few weeks and head to the public high school. The very large and intimidating (but excellent) public high school. And I have to admit, the thought makes my stomach do little flips. Not good flips.

I won't go so far as to say that I'm having flashbacks, but the thought of my baby standing in the Ground Zero of teenage cruelty known as the cafeteria -- or even worse, phys ed class -- is almost more than I can bear. I was not among the "cool" kids in high school. I was anything but, wearing so many uncool labels it was hard to keep track: twirler, folk group singer, honor society member, CYO president. Add to that the fact that I never went to a party at the bleachers and spent most of my free time at my parish church and, well, you probably get the picture. Last one picked for the team. Any team, from field hockey to square dancing.

So when I saw this story in the New York Times today, I ripped it out and left it on the kitchen table for my son and my tween daughter to read. Alexandra Robbins, 34, author of "The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth," is a former "power dork" who has made a career out of helping teenagers realize that being unpopular in high school is often a good indicator that you'll go far later on. Her book chronicles the lives of high school archetypes — the Loner, the New Girl, the Nerd and the Band Geek.

From the story in the Times:

Their stories beautifully demonstrate things we know intrinsically: being popular is not always the same as being liked, that high school is more rigid and conformist than the military, and that the people who are excluded and bullied for their offbeat passions and refusal to conform are often the ones who are embraced and lauded for those very qualities in college and beyond — what Ms. Robbins has dubbed Quirk Theory.

As anyone who’s seen movies like “Heathers” knows, the social agonies of high school are nothing new. But the Internet has magnified those feelings of alienation for the oddballs. Partly it’s the relentless exposure to celebrity culture, to images of perfection and roaring success with little discernible talent. (Hello, Kardashians.) But it goes beyond issues of appearance.

“Facebook is now the online cafeteria,” Ms. Robbins says. “It’s this public space, largely unsupervised, and it mirrors the cafeteria dynamic where you walk in and have to find a place to belong. At school, you have to pick a table. Well, on Facebook you not only have to pick a table, you have to pick who’s at your table and who’s not. And then kids feel they have to be publicists for themselves, maintaining their photos and status. It’s exhausting.”

Also exhausting is the care and feeding of popularity, which Ms. Robbins has discovered is not so much about being liked (some popular teenagers are liked, many are not) as about being known. “Popularity is a combination of visibility, influence and recognizability,” she says. “If you’re someone who engages in studying or practicing violin, these are not activities that put you in front of the student body. So these kids aren’t in the popular crowd, but it doesn’t say anything other than the fact that their talents are not visible.”

In other words, the president of the chess club may have more real friends than the cheerleader, but still be considered unpopular.

As a former geek (and perhaps a current geek who just doesn't realize it), I can attest to Ms. Robbins' theories. The very things that made me "odd" in high school made me "interesting" in college. My willingness to walk to the beat of a different drummer served me well once I was out of the popularity-is-everything world of high school. I attribute a lot of that not only to my family but to my involvement in CYO, which was -- at least where I lived -- the very best version of youth ministry, a powerful combination of service, spirituality and social events. We sang in nursing homes and planned liturgies, but we also went to dances and hung out together at church when many of our classmates were getting into trouble.

It's one of the reasons I've been pushing my son to get involved in our own parish youth ministry. In fact, the two of us are heading to Indianapolis in November -- along with about 25,000 other teenagers -- for the annual National Catholic Youth Conference. I want him to see that he is not alone in his thinking, his values, his beliefs, even if he finds himself alone now and then in the cafeteria at school.

And as Ms. Robbins points out in the Times story, knowing who you are and being willing to break from the crowd is critical:

Ms. Robbins has many deeply comforting words for these teenagers; and one story speaks in particular to those who’ve been right there with the high school outcasts. It’s about an experiment performed by the late-19th-century French naturalist Jean-Henri Fabre on caterpillars that were hard-wired to follow each other in a long head-to-tail line.

“Fabre set them up in such a way that they were following each other around the rim of a flowerpot — with their favorite food only inches away,” Ms. Robbins says. “For seven days they followed each other around until they died of starvation and exhaustion. They couldn’t see how a simple deviation from the path would get them to the food they needed right away.”

Geeks are many things, Ms. Robbins suggests. But one thing they aren’t are caterpillars.

To read the full Times story, click HERE.

Sunday morning quarterbacking on the Rapture

I've been thinking a lot about the whole Rapture frenzy and why it seemed to take on a life of its own. Certainly in the world of Facebook and Twitter it did. And if you follow me on Facebook, you know I was having quite a good time with the alleged impending doom. Not because I'm cavalier about meeting my Maker one day but because I was entertained by the hubris of one man to try to scare the rest of the world into thinking that most of us were not going to be raptured at a specific time and date, even according to individual time zones.

Why do some people -- albeit an odd few -- cling to these sorts of weird predictions, be they Evangelical Christian or New Age Mayan? I think it's because people like the idea of having some control, even over their own demise, or rapture. But, as we know all too well, we don't have control. Car accidents and cancer, hurricanes and heart attacks take our loved ones regardless of what the calendar says.

Jesus said, "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." (Mt 25:13) In other words, be ready -- every day, any day. Which is easier said than done. It's much more palatable to think someone can give us a date and time, isn't it? But we Christians are meant to live our lives as if any day could be our last.

Last night wasn't the Rapture after all, but I'm sure the predictions are already being recalculated as we speak. For those of us who believe in Jesus, no predictions are necessary. He told us everything we need to know. Now we just have to do the hard part: live it.

Why I live in - and love - the northeast

When we decided to move back to New York from Texas 10 years ago, there were a couple of reasons. First, all of the grandparents live in New York and New Jersey, but not far behind was the fact that New York has the beauty of four distinct seasons. In Texas, the seasons are pretty much hot and hotter. But here, just when you think you're tired of a season (especially a long, cold winter), along comes a new season to fill you with joy and hope and awe.

As much as I loved Austin (and I lived there twice), I loved autumn more. Every September I would miss the crisp northeast air that would blow in one morning and let you know that summer was over and it was time to pick apples and watch the leaves turn into a kind of visual poetry. And then along would come that first snowflake and I'd fall in love all over again.

Now it's spring, and I find myself staring out my back window every morning, watching the barren limbs turn vibrant green. I actually get a little giddy every time a new bloom appears somewhere in our yard. I know this wave of cool color will eventually give way to the hot and humid tones of summer, sometimes tinged brown by drought. But that will bring with it the big bobbing white heads of the hydrangea, the bats swooping overhead at dusk, and the anticipation that a tart and crispy McIntosh apple is just around the corner.

Here's some of what awes me in my own backyard this week:

The bleeding heart I rescued from a high-traffic area at the edge of my yard when it was just a single branch with one bloom. Now look at it. Pretty obvious why it's called a bleeding heart when you see it up close, no?



Lilacs. One of my favorites. This is the first year we've had a lot of blooms, at least on one shrub. Maybe next year one of the other three will join in.


Vinca. A groundcover really, but such a pretty one. And it can survive in the shade, which is why it grows wild in my yard, which was at one time pretty much all deep shade. Not so much now that they've clear cut the three lots around us.



A potted begonia and a basket of pansies, which I had to include because Chiara took these photos. Not bad, eh?

And, of course, at the top of this post is a long view of my raised bed. This is what Our Lady of Guadalupe looks like when she's not serving as a snow-measuring device, as was the case in THIS POST. I bet she was glad to see a change of seasons this year.

Help for the Rosary-challenged (like me)

I don't know about you, but I have a hard time with the Rosary. I am Rosary-challenged. But I recently reviewed four books that look at the Rosary from different perspectives, and I have to admit that I feel a little space opening up for this ancient prayer. I'm saying it more often and more effectively. I think.

So check out my story in Our Sunday Visitor, and then check out some or all of these great books. I'll get you started here:

Four recent books offer different perspectives on ancient prayer for experts and novices alike

By Mary DeTurris Poust - OSV Newsweekly, 5/15/2011

When it comes to the Rosary, some people are like marathon champs.

They have no problem saying the words to familiar prayers and reflecting on the mysteries as they drive two hours on a busy highway with 18-wheelers buzzing by, as they take their morning power walk through the neighborhood, even as they wait in line at the grocery store or bank.

These long-distance prayers are able to enter into the beauty and mystery of the Rosary in ways that can confound many of us.

I have to admit that I’m Rosary-challenged. This traditional prayer that was so much a part of my childhood has always been a struggle for me. I’d try to pray at night and fall asleep. I’d kneel in our parish chapel, but before I knew it my mind was wandering and I’d lost count even with the beads there to prevent that.

Not that long ago, I bought a Rosary CD and tried to pray as I walked to church, but even then my thoughts could not find a place to rest. The Rosary seems to test the limits of my otherwise impressive multitasking skills.

So, when four different books on the Rosary arrived on my desk in recent months, I took it as a sign that it was time to give the Rosary another shot. Each of the books approaches this prayer from a different perspective, giving readers the opportunity to find a method that suits their spiritual style. Continue reading HERE.

Where I've been, where you'll find me

I've been pretty scarce around these parts lately. Why? Because I've been spending all my time in the basement and at the Dollar Store. How's that for a great combo? I've been prepping for the mini-retreat I'll be giving in Warwick, Rhode Island, tomorrow for 60+ people from 11 New England dioceses. So...I've spent many hours at the Dollar Store buying supplies, actually two Dollar Stores, and the Christmas Tree Shoppe, and various party stores and more in New York and New Jersey. Yes, it's a multi-state adventure. I've been at our local Dollar Store so often that the manager and I have become friends. He even gave me directions to Warwick, and I promised to come back and tell him how things went. That's what happens when you talk too much.

After I found all the pieces for these projects, I had to assemble 70 bags/boxes, put prayer-based messages on the front and back of each one, cut squares of Styrofoam for each one with a serrated bread knife (I'm hoping I don't have some rare lung disease from breathing in all that Styrofoam dust), stuff the bags with shredded paper, and then, the best part, stick each of those little doves onto the end of a toothpick and then stick the toothpick into the Styrofoam. I have to share this with all of you because, really, no one would ever guess these little things required that much effort. I'm sure the folks at the retreat will wonder why they're getting a cheap little bag of paper. What can I do? I had to keep costs reasonable. It's the love that's put into it that counts, right?

Those are the little "prayer boxes" above and to the left. They'll be part of an activity at the end of one of my retreat sessions. I've got another table full of votive candles for the closing activity. Let's hope I don't set off the conference center sprinklers with 70 candles going at once on one big table. That certainly would make for a memorable experience.

I sure hope they like all this stuff, not to mention the actual talks that will serve as the core of this event and the Powerpoints presentations (my first ever) to go with each of the eight songs I'm using to close and open the four segments. Phew.

It would really help if you could send some prayers my way tomorrow. I want to give these participants -- all of whom are catechists for developmentally disabled adults and children -- what they need and deserve on this annual day of renewal for them. I'll let you know how things go when I get back.

This was our wedding day first

Happy anniversary to us. Sixteen years ago today, Dennis and I were married at Our Lady of the Assumption Church in the Bronx. And what a lovely day it was. Windy, but lovely. Seems like yesterday. Then I look at our three beautiful children and remember it's been quite a few years since that photo above was taken at our reception.

We went for unconventional. Because we are unconventional. I remember, as I walked across the street from my apartment to the church, an old lady pointing toward me and saying, "That's the bride?!?" She assumed I was a bridesmaid because I was in a wine-colored velvet dress. Like I said, unconventional.

The Mass was truly the centerpiece of our wedding day. We walked each other down the aisle, and carefully chose every reading, wrote every prayer of the faithful, picked every song. It was everything we wanted it to be. And then we followed it up with a kick-butt Italian dinner at Spoto's, a Throggs Neck restaurant. The royal wedding's got nothing on us. I'll put our day up to theirs any time.

So I look back with so many fond memories, but I look forward, too -- to everything that's still ahead. I married my best friend, who also happened to be my colleague in the Catholic press. What a combo. I have been blessed.

Happy 16th anniversary, Dennis. I love you. As the plaque in our entry says, "Grow old with me. The best is yet to be." Here's our wedding song, "Emotionally Yours," by Bob Dylan:

Holy Saturday: Waiting in the shadows

I've been awake since 4:30 a.m., which seems appropriate somehow on this day of watching and waiting. The rain is coming down. The sun has not made an appearance. It is as if the world is weeping and holding its breath all at once, waiting for an answer.

At this point in the season, past the Lenten promises -- too many of them unfulfilled -- to fast and pray and serve, I always identify with Peter, locked away, afraid, ashamed, alone. Every year I want Lent to be "perfect." I want to make Good Friday better than perfect. I want to do justice to the day, as if that's even possible. And, as if on cue, every year I fail miserably. Good Friday always ends up being the exact opposite of what I had hoped for. Of course, that's nobody's fault but my own.

Then I remember Peter, and I can't help but be comforted. He doubted, denied, ran away, and yet Jesus saw fit to call him the "rock," the one who would go on to lead his church, or, at that point, his band of disciples. Maybe, just maybe then, Jesus sees some shred of worth beneath my many failings, behind my own doubts and fears.

This Lent certainly did not turn out the way I imagined it would. My plans to set aside certain times for silence and prayer were waylaid by sick children and my own bout with a brief illness. For weeks on end, we seemed to have one virus after another at our house, keeping us down -- both physically and spiritually. Rather than hang on for dear life to what I wanted, however, I began to realize that perhaps my "sacrifice" for the season was to let go of my plans, even the plans to pray more, and accept what was right there in front of me -- my children in need of a mom to read to them, comfort them, make them snacks, or just snuggle on the couch in the middle of the afternoon. In some ways, my Lenten plans were far more selfish than the Lenten reality I was handed. I wanted to lock myself away in silence. Instead I had to give up my quiet time and make time for someone else, and isn't that what I should have been doing in the first place?

So today, as I sip coffee in the silence of early morning, while everyone else is sleeping, I'm focusing on the fact that things often are not as they appear -- as the earliest disciples learned after what at first seemed like defeat on the cross. My Lent wasn't really a failure; it was simply different than what I wanted it to be initially. Perhaps then, my Good Friday wasn't a failure either. Perhaps it was simply another -- albeit bumpier -- path to the same Truth.

On this Holy Saturday, I am waiting in shadows of my own making, like Peter, longing to be set free.

"If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." -- John 8:31-32

Good Friday: Seven Last Words

Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Albany, N.Y.

Father forgive them, they know not what they do...

We see Jesus on the cross today and hear him forgiving his persecutors, forgiving us. It is a powerful scene, but it is more than just a scene out of our faith history. Jesus’ way is supposed to be our way. Forgive, forgive, forgive, even in the face of the most unreasonable suffering and injustice. Are we willing to forgive as Jesus did?

Today you will be with me in Paradise.

The “good thief” has always been a favorite of mine. Imagine in your last dying moment that you utter a few kind words and are assured by Jesus himself that you will be in heaven with him that day. It would be nice to assume that in that situation I would have taken the path of belief, like the good thief, but there is a much bigger part of me that probably would have been like the unrepentant thief, expecting mercy and miracles despite faithlessness.

Woman, behold your son...

At last a comfort in the midst of all this misery. God gives us a mother for all time. He reminds us that his mother is our mother, who, with a mother’s unconditional love, will open her arms to us when we are desperate, when we are hurting, when we are searching for peace and a way back to the Father.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Despair, despair. If Jesus can feel despair, what hope is there for me? Then again, Jesus’ moment of despair reminds me of his humanness and that gives me hope even in this dark moment. God became man, walked on earth, suffered torture and death beyond our comprehension. My God is fully human and fully divine. My God knows what it means to live this earthly life, and so my God knows my small sufferings and heartaches and will not turn His back on me.

I thirst.

The wretched physical anguish of the Crucifixion is coming to bear. It is almost too much for us to take. Jesus, water poured out for the world, thirsts. And yet in the midst of this suffering, we remember Jesus’ words to the woman at the well, the woman to whom he first revealed his identity: “...whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.” (John 4:14)

It is finished.

Jesus has completed his mission of redemption. Darkness descends, the earth shakes, the temple curtain tears in two. We see Jesus’ anguish near its end. We should be reduced to trembling at the enormity of his suffering, his gift to us. Unlike his followers who were plunged into fear and despair at this moment, we have the benefit of hindsight. We know what is coming. We know that his Crucifixion was cause for our salvation. His death a victory. His earthly end our eternal beginning.

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.

Jesus is going back to the Father, back to where he started before time began, but he will not leave us orphans. We patiently wait to celebrate his Resurrection, to rejoice in our unearned windfall. We wait, pray, watch, listen -- hopeful, trusting, faithful. We begin our vigil now, waiting for the darkness to turn to light.

Holy Thursday: Anything But Normal

Today I'm guest blogging over at Sarah Reinhard's blog, SnoringScholar.com. I'll start you here...

By Mary DeTurris Poust

My teenage son came home from school last week and reported that he took his younger Catholic school “buddy” across the street to our parish church to walk him through the Stations of the Cross. After they were done and were getting ready to leave the church, Noah had a strong desire to stay – and not just because he likes missing class. It was something he had never felt before, he said, something comforting that made him want to kneel down in the midday silence.

I know that feeling. I’ve been in our church when it’s semi-dark and completely empty. It feels deeply spiritual and powerfully peaceful. It feels like home.

It’s really not surprising that it would feel that way. After all, ours is a faith that centers on a shared meal, a spiritual version of the kitchen table, a sense of home even among strangers, even in a foreign land, wherever Jesus is present in the tabernacle.

Holy Thursday drives that point home for me. I can easily allow myself to slip back in time and imagine Jesus and the Apostles gathered in the home of a friend...Continue reading HERE.

In the footsteps of St. Benedict...

My story on Subicao, Italy, running in the Albany Times Union today:

By Mary DeTurris Poust

With a breathtaking valley stretching out below and an ancient monastery clinging to the cliffs above, Subiaco, Italy, feels as though it is a world away from the chaotic streets of Rome, only 40 miles to its west. And, in a sense, it is.

Steeped in history that stretches back to the Roman Empire and the earliest centuries of the Roman Catholic Church, Subiaco is a place out of time, giving visitors a chance to step into the very same cloisters, caves and gardens that were once home to ancient saints and medieval monks.

During the hour ride by tour bus, past fields lined with cypress trees and tiny villages dotted with red-tiled roofs, the hustle and bustle of Roman life seemed to fade with each passing mile. Finally, in what can best be described as the white-knuckle portion of the trip, the bus wound its way up a narrow mountain road to what has become a spiritual pilgrimage spot for Christians and a treasure trove of artifacts for history buffs and art lovers.

Although today Subiaco is known as the birthplace of Western monasticism, thanks to St. Benedict of Nursia -- who spent three years living in a cave there before starting 13 monasteries -- it was first home to the Aequi people, who were defeated by the Romans in 304 B.C. The Roman Empire took advantage of the nearby Anio River and built aqueducts to bring water to Rome, but it was the Emperor Nero who left his mark on the place. He built a villa there and created three artificial lakes, giving the area its name Subiacus, "below the lakes," which became Subiaco.


Tour guides like to point out the ruins of Nero's villa and the irony that the one-time home of this brutal persecutor of Christians would become the fertile ground in which the seeds of the great monastic orders of the Christian faith would be planted. Regardless of why you visit -- for the history or the spirituality -- Subiaco is a place of mystery and silence, natural beauty and artistic significance.

Continue reading HERE.

Response to NY Times story on changes to Mass

My post from OSV Daily Take today:

In case you missed it, the New York Times ran a front-page story on the new translation of the Roman Missal in yesterday's edition. The story, "For New Mass, Closer to Latin, Critics Voice Plain Objection," included many negative reactions to the changes that are coming in Advent.

Today the Times is running my Letter to the Editor in response to that story. I wrote not only as a lifelong Catholic but as an author who focused on the changes in my newest book, "The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass." Initially, I didn't like the idea of the new language. My attitude was one of "leave my Mass alone." But as I researched and wrote, I came to love many of the changes.

Will there be some confusion and frustration when the new language is rolled out? You bet. Is this an opportunity for renewal and education? Absolutely. We need to take the positive aspect of what's coming and run with it.

You can read the original Times story HERE. You can read my letter HERE.

A book that became a spiritual journey

Here's my latest Life Lines column from the April 7 issue of Catholic New York:

Growing up in a traditional Catholic household — one where my mother strictly adhered to Church teaching and even added a few rules of her own (Thanksgiving was a holy day of obligation at our house) — I entered adulthood with a fairly substantial repertoire of Catholic devotions under my belt.

Grace Before Meals. Check. Monday night novena. Check. Stations of the Cross. Check. Rosary, litanies, Triduum services. Check, check, check. Ours was a life marked by the rhythm of the Church year, and I grew to love the passing spiritual seasons in much the same way I looked forward to autumn and spring.

So when I decided to write my latest book, “The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass,” I had the basics down. But as I explored and researched, I realized how much more there was to learn and love in the beautiful treasury of Catholic prayers and devotions. Chapter by chapter, as I plumbed the depths of prayer methods that were often hauntingly familiar and sometimes refreshingly new, I found myself awed by the many and varied ways Catholics try to connect with God. Whether we like to pray out loud or in silence, with music or in motion, alone or in a crowd, there truly is something for everyone.

It’s a blessing to do a job that rotates around worship. Spiritual exercise is built into my day. Even when I am not actually praying, I am often writing a prayer or writing about prayer. This latest book, however, allowed me to enter into that world full time for several months, sitting before my computer with the words of the saints and the poetry of prayer filling my ears and my heart almost around the clock. From the desert-style prayer of silence and fasting to the fullness of the Rosary and popular novenas, I basked in the glow of Divine conversation.

Perhaps the best part of this particular writing job, which ultimately became a spiritual journey, was the time I spent writing about the Mass, including the new translation of the Roman Missal that will become the norm for Catholics in just a few months. I went from my initial aversion to changes that seemed foreign to my ears to a real appreciation for some of the changes that will take us back to our scriptural roots. Although the official translation will not be in place until Advent, I already hear the words of the new translation echoing silently in my head as I pray at Mass each Sunday.

In some ways, writing this book on prayer was like going on a pilgrimage. I traveled from one sacred place to another—the Novena to the Sacred Heart one day, the Jesus Prayer the day after, contemplation the next. And just like any pilgrim, there were days when the journey wore me out, when I wondered if I wanted to go on. Then I would reach my destination and feel renewed by a prayer practice that calmed my frazzled nerves and made my weary spirit soar.

My pilgrim heart struggled with some prayer methods while others felt as natural as breathing, but every prayer took me one step further down my spiritual path and left me hungry for more. My hope is that my book will do the same for every reader, from the most devoted Catholic to those who may have only a passing familiarity with our prayers and devotions.

Our faith is rich in ancient traditions that can be adapted to modern lives, giving deeper meaning and spiritual rhythm to even the most mundane moments of our days. When we lace our lives with prayer, whether it’s private or communal, recited from memory, spoken spontaneously, or perhaps not spoken at all, we experience transformation—in our hearts, in our homes, in our world.

Tune in to Archbishop Dolan's show today

I'll be talking about my newest book, "The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and Mass," with Archbishop Timothy Dolan on his weekly radio show, A Conversation with the Archbishop, today, April 7, at 1 p.m. EST. Tune in to The Catholic Channel, Sirius 159/XM 117.

The show will be repeated on Saturday at 6 a.m. and 1 p.m. and again on Sunday at 6 p.m. and midnight ET.

This was my third time on the archbishop's show, which manages to be funny, informative, uplifting and spiritually nourishing all at once. To give you a clue, I get to talk about everything from the Liturgy of the Hours and the Last Supper to the New York Yankees- Boston Red Sox rivalry. Where else can you find that on Catholic radio?

Of course, there's lots more to the show than just my segment, so be sure to stay for the whole thing.

Review says my book could be a 'textbook' for Catholics. Cool.

I just came across this amazing review of my latest book, "The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass." I have to say, it's my new favorite review. Check it out.

Blogger BobZ says this:

To title a book ”The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass” takes either courage or hubris. This new Alpha paperback by Mary DeTurris Poust lives up to its name.

Just over 300 pages and just $16.95, it could be a textbook for those on the journey to enter the Catholic Church, but even cradle Catholics will find it valuable when looking for a spiritual refresher course or a source of comfort in time of need.

What I liked best about this prayer guide was that it wasn’t dogmatic. It was authoritative without being authoritarian, often a lost trait in Catholic life in the 21st Century...

...She solidly explains why Catholic prayer is different, and goes on to take a closer look at basic Catholic prayers and prayer life. None of it is ideologically slanted; it’s not liberal, it’s not conservative, it’s just Catholic. And it’s extremely education oriented. Throughout there are pull-outs labeled “Definition,” “Prayer practice,” “Wisdom for the Journey,” and “Misc.” that add knowledge, flavor, and practical ideas to try, plus quotes from the famous and note-so-famous that bring a topic to life and make it real for anyone who sits in a church pew.

...Six full chapters explain the greatest Catholic prayer, the Mass. This portion of “The Essential Guide” is so well done, taking readers from the historical perspective through the gestures and postures, explaining the three basic parts of the Mass and the prayers in each, and helping readers understand the “why” behind the words and actions of the Eucharistic Liturgy.

This is an up-to-date primer on the Mass that explains what the coming changes to the liturgy will entail and why the church is making the changes."

Read the full review HERE.

In case you missed my live cable interview...

I was on Everyday Faith Live! this morning on Telecare TV via Skype. (Isn't technology amazing?) If you didn't catch the show live, you can watch it here. My segment is about 14 minutes into the program. I talk about my newest book, The Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass," about prayer in general and about the new language of the Mass. Check it out if you have a few minutes.